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As the Kinshiu's engines stopped, the Rossia turned her searchlights upon us, brought her guns to bear, and lowered two boats, the crews of which we could see were armed to the teeth.
The Kinshiu's deck, I knew, must be by this time a veritable shambles, for the Russian cruiser lay close aboard, and her machine-guns could sweep the transport's decks from stem to stern; moreover, the rapid and ominous slackening of the rifle-fire testified eloquently to the frightful carnage that was proceeding.
About two minutes of silence succeeded to the sudden cessation of the Russians' voices on deck, and then the muffled crack of a pistol-shot rang out from the Kinshiu's interior, instantly followed by a shout of "Banzai Nippon!" and the crack of several rifles; there arose a sudden outburst of yells and execrations in Russian, a stampede of many feet along the deck, the sounds of a scuffling hand-to-hand fight, a volley of orders from the Russian officer in command of the boarding party, a hoarse hail from one of the warships, and then the rattle and splash of oars hastily thrown out.
Then, taking advantage of the heave of the two craft, I managed to move the junk until she lay entirely in the shadow cast by the Kinshiu's hull.
Crouching low under the cover of the bulwarks, to avoid being seen by those aboard the Rossia, I slipped aft and, cautiously peering over the taffrail, saw that she had drifted right in under the Kinshiu's counter, where she was momentarily threatening to bilge herself against the steamer's iron rudder, as the two craft ground against each other on the swell.
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